Sentiment-A Johnlock Fanfic
by Madeline Myst
Summary: John and Sherlock have been denying the truth for a while. What happens when their true feelings are revealed during a case involving Moriarty? This is my first fic so please read and I'm open to criticism. Many chapters to follow.
1. Angelo's

John Watson stormed into 221b Baker Street carrying grocery bags. Sherlock Holmes didn't even look up from his microscope.

"You know you could buy the groceries for once!" John complains as he begins putting food away. He doesn't even cringe as he sees the severed head in the freezer.

"Why would I buy groceries? It's such a boring task, besides who needs food…" Sherlock replies as he continues to examine whatever he's looking at with his microscope.

John rolls his eyes. "You and I both need food! When's the last time you've eaten?"

Sherlock turns his bright blue green eyes to John. "Why do you care so much John…?" Sherlock trails off thinking.

John's face starts turning a light shade of red. _Why do I care so much? Well I'm a doctor and he is my best friend…yeah that's why. That's got to be why._ All this goes through John's mind.

"Tuesday." Sherlock says.

John looks confused at first, but then it dawns on him. "You haven't eaten since Tuesday! It's Friday now! You are ea…"

Sherlock interrupts him with, "Angelo's?"

"Sure, Angelo's. As long as you eat something I don't care where we go." John goes to sit down in his chair, but has to get back up as Sherlock decides that they're leaving right now.

Sherlock wraps his blue scarf around his neck and slips on his long black Belstaff coat. John puts on his coat as he watches Sherlock turn his coat collar up.

_Why does he always have to be so mysterious, him and his cheekbones? His very sharp cheekbones…_ John suddenly realizes that he had been staring at his friend.

"What?" Sherlock asks.

"Nothing, just um…thinking." John replies.

Sherlock doesn't believe this excuse, but says nothing as he leads the way down the stairs and out of 221b Baker Street. He hails a cab and they both climb in.

_Hmm what could be bothering my dear blogger?_ Sherlock deduces that John's had a bad day at work, had a row with someone at the store, and is expecting a text from Harry. _Those wouldn't distract John like this. And why is he avoiding making eye contact?_

Sherlock continues to try to deduce what's wrong with John and John feels that Sherlock's making this cab ride very awkward by staring at him. Finally, they arrive at Angelo's. Both men enter the small Italian restaurant and slide into their usual seat by the window.

"Hey Sherlock!" Angelo beams at the pair. "And you brought your date too!"

"I'm not his date." John replies, frowning.

Angelo apparently doesn't believe him as he says, "It's ok you don't have to deny it here."

Sherlock can tell that John's about to explode so he interrupts Angelo. "We'll have the chicken parmesan and some wine."

John just stares at Sherlock as Angelo goes to put their order in.

"How did you know what I wanted?" John asks.

"I always see and observe, and I…" Sherlock is cut off by John.

"Ok ok, I don't want the whole long explanation. I'm not in a good mood." John says as he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat.

Angelo returns with wine. He fills both their glasses and leaves the bottle on the table. John immediately drains his glass and doesn't protest as Sherlock fills it again.

"Sherlock, why does everyone think that I'm gay and we're a couple?" John quietly asks him.

"Does it really matter what other people think? They're all of average intelligence or lower. Besides, we both know that that's not true." Sherlock looks slightly downcast as he says this, however John doesn't notice.

Soon, Angelo returns with two steaming plates of food which are placed in front of the consulting detective and his blogger.


	2. A Case

After dinner, in which John had to make sure that Sherlock actually ate his food, they were about to return to 221b Baker Street when Sherlock got a text.

"Whose it from?"

"George, we're needed at Scotland Yard." Sherlock answers.

John looks at him confused. "George? George who?"

"Detective Inspector George Lestrade."

"Sherlock you do realize that his name is Greg."

"Same thing." Sherlock replies shortly.

They arrive at Scotland Yard and are greeted by Lestrade, Donavan, and Anderson.

"Hello freak." Donavan says to Sherlock.

John glares at her. Someday I'm going to punch her, he silently vows.

"Sherlock we received this text about 45 minutes ago." Lestrade explains as he hands his phone to Sherlock.

Sherlock reads the message: I love London and so will you. The burn of sun, unless it rains. You like to play, so do my friends. My little friends. The game is on. Get ready. Get Sherlock.

"It's skip code." Sherlock immediately announces.

"What?" Anderson asks Sherlock skeptically.

"London will burn unless you play my little game. Get Sherlock. Obviously that's what it says. Lestrade you should write that down."

Lestrade quickly grabs a notebook and jots that down. Donavan and Anderson just stare at him.

"Brilliant."

Everyone turns to stare at John, except Sherlock who smiles slightly at his friend's compliment.

"Can you trace the text?"

"Yes, we already did Sherlock. It came from a small town in the English country side, Yorkshire." Lestrade says.

"How far away?"

"Oh about a five hour drive."

Sherlock nods and goes to walk out the door, but stops.

"Lestrade be at 221b Baker Street tomorrow morning at 7:00 sharp with your car." And with that Sherlock walks out the door, John follows him, leaving a very confused Scotland Yard Crew.

* * *

Later that evening, Sherlock and John are back at their flat.

"So why is Greg meeting us at 7 tomorrow morning?"

"We're going on a road trip to the town of Yorkshire to track down the sender of the text." Sherlock replies.

"How do you know they'll still be there?"

"Oh I know this kind of criminal, they want to be caught." Sherlock who is laying on the couch, places his hands under his chin in his usual thinking pose.

"Do you think it's Moriarty?"

"Possibly, but I need to see the facts to prove it."

A few minutes of silence pass.

"Will we be staying overnight?"

Sherlock, interrupted from his mind palace, glances at John. "I'm not planning on it." He closes his eyes again, in thought.


	3. Yorkshire

The next morning Sherlock and John are both up at around 6:30. Mrs. Hudson brings them tea.

"My, you boys are up early." She comments as she puts the tea tray on the table.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." John looks up from his newspaper. "We're going to Yorkshire."

"Oh I always liked Yorkshire, such a quaint and romantic little town. I'm sure you and Sherlock will enjoy yourselves there."

John sets down his paper. "Mrs. Hudson it's for a case!"

"Oh, well you two should go on a holiday sometime." Mrs. Hudson closes the door and returns to her flat.

John and Sherlock drink their tea in silence. Soon Mrs. Hudson returns to tell them that Greg Lestrade has arrived. They go outside to greet him. Greg surprisingly drives a Volkswagen Beetle.

"Ready to go?" Greg asks.

"In that?" John points to the car.

"What? It's a good car. Although I have some stuff in the passenger seat. I think you two will have to sit in the back."

John looks unsure about him and Sherlock both fitting in the back seat. Sherlock climbs in the back seat and John waits until he scoots over, then he also climbs into the back seat. It's a tight fit, both men barely fit.

_This is going to be a long and uncomfortable five hours._ John thinks. _I don't think I've ever sat this close to Sherlock before. Our knees and arms are touching. Sherlock doesn't seem to be bothered, but he's probably in his mind palace. Yes definitely in his mind palace, his eyes are closed._

_Why can't I focus properly_, Sherlock thinks as he's in his mind palace. _No one's talking, the radio isn't on, and Lestrade and John are thinking, but not very distractedly. What is wrong with me? Wait… Sherlock focuses on the feeling the feeling of his knee and arm that are touching John. He glances at John who looks uncomfortable and then returns to his mind palace. John, it's John…why is he distracting me? It's been getting worse; I must control these strange feelings. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side._

The car ride is altogether uneventful. John tries to distract himself from Sherlock and Sherlock works on locking away his feelings and strange thoughts about John. Finally, they arrive at Yorkshire at a little past noon.

"Well I'm starving. What about you two?" Greg asks as he parks the car in front of the Yorkshire Tavern and Hotel. There's not much else to the town besides a few houses and a small general store.

"Yeah I could go for something to eat." John replies to Greg.

They all get out of the car.

"We don't have time to eat." Sherlock throws a bag of crisps at Lestrade and John.

"What the hell do we want these for?!" Lestrade exclaims.

"Well I assumed that you would get hungry and we don't have time to sit down and eat."

John rolls his eyes. "Ok Sherlock, lead the way. I can tell you're excited."

Sherlock quickly finds the room in which the text sender was staying. They all walk into the small room to see the corpse of a woman.

"Is that the person who sent the text?" Lestrade asks.

"No." Sherlock pulls out his small magnifying glass. "She was the maid who came here this morning to clean the room and she was killed by a blow to the head. She doesn't have any family nearby." Sherlock picks up a note that was left on the bed. He reads it aloud. "Dear Sherlock, you've probably guessed it's me. Meet me tonight outside your window for a little game. Come alone."

"Is it Moriarty?"

"Yes John, all the evidence points to Moriarty."

"So you're going to meet him tonight, alone?"

"Yes."

"You're going to meet the man who tried to kill us multiple times, alone?"

"Yes, I thought that was fairly obvious John."

"Sherlock you do realize you could…die."

Sherlock can see something hidden in John's eyes, something that Sherlock's never had anyone direct at him before. Lestrade coughs uncomfortably. John starts to blush because he and Sherlock had been staring into each other's eyes for at least a minute.

"Do you uh…want me to leave?" Lestrade asks uncertainly.

"Err…no." John turns a deeper shade of red.

"I know that it will be dangerous…but I know how to handle who we're dealing with." Sherlock says quietly, though his mind palace is working at a thousand miles a minute trying to keep everything under control.

Lestrade organizes what to do with the body and John goes downstairs to see if there are any open rooms. Sherlock decides to follow him. John reaches the front desk.

"May I help you sir?"

"Yes. Do you have any rooms available? With three beds?"

"I'm sorry sir. We only have one room available. It has two queen beds."

John sighs. "Ok we'll have to take it."

The man at the desk hands John the key to the room.


	4. Feelings

Sherlock, John, and Greg all enter their room. It has two queen beds, a window, a bathroom, and a small desk with an unsteady looking chair. Sherlock immediately goes and lays on the bed closest to the window, in his usual thinking pose. Greg decides to go to the tavern part of the hotel to get a drink. John sits on the other bed.

John finds it strange that Sherlock hasn't said anything for quite a while. "Sherlock are you ok?"

"Yes…no. John, how do you live with sentiment?" Sherlock whispers as he opens his eyes. "It's getting worse. It's going to destroy me." He curls into a ball.

John's clearly concerned as he walks over to the bed Sherlock's on. _I've never seen Sherlock like this_ he thinks. "It's not going to destroy you." John says softly.

Sherlock has an odd look in his eyes. "All these feelings, all so painful…"

John sits down next to him and places his hand lightly on Sherlock's shoulder, unsure what to do. "Not all feelings are bad. There's happiness, achievement, excitement, and…"

Sherlock seems to have calmed down some. "Yes John?"

"And love."

They stare into each other's eyes. Before John knows what's happening, his lips press against Sherlock's. John, suddenly realizing what he just did, pulls back. Sherlock looks stunned, but quickly snaps out of it. Sherlock leans in and their lips meet again with increased passion. John's tongue presses against Sherlock's lips, asking for entrance. He complies, opening his mouth slightly as they battle for dominance. Sherlock's only thoughts are about John, his John. Sherlock melts into John's arms as he takes the lead, exploring Sherlock's mouth. Pretty soon they have to break apart to breath.

"John, I…I love you."

"I love you too Sherlock."

* * *

Lestrade returns to the room to see Sherlock laying with his head resting in John's lap, as John caresses his curly dark brown hair. Lestrade looks confused and does a double take. He decides not to ask.

"Um…Sherlock?" Lestrade asks.

"Yes?" He replies, not even moving from his position.

"It's almost dusk, about time for you to meet with Moriarty."

"Yes it is." Sherlock answers as he gets up and begins pacing around the room, trying to focus on the case.

John also gets up and Greg walks over to him.

"So you and Sherlock are…together now?" Greg whispers to John.

"Yes, I believe we are." John whispers back, smiling.

"I knew it. A lot of people at Scotland Yard owe me money now."

"Wait, you made a bet on if Sherlock and I were together?" John looks kind of mad.

"Yeah it's been going on since your first case together, A Study in Pink."

John rolls his eyes at that. And soon Sherlock is waiting by the window, preparing to climb out into the cold night.

"Sherlock, here take this." John hands him his gun.

Sherlock puts John's gun into his coat pocket, "Thank you John."

"Be careful."

"I will." Sherlock kisses John on the cheek and disappears out the window.


	5. Danger

Sherlock drops to the ground and lands a little awkwardly, slightly stumbling. I need to focus he thinks. I need to think about the case, but my dear blogger… Sherlock stops and closes his eyes to try to regain control of his mind palace. Thoughts about John keep distracting him though. Finally, Sherlock is somewhat focused on his task. Soon he notices a dark figure following him just out of sight. Sherlock stops abruptly and turns to face the figure.

"Moriarty."

"Hi Sherlock, see you got my message. Enjoying your holiday in Yorkshire?"

"Just tell me what you want." Sherlock glares at him. "I have something more important to do."

Moriarty fakes a surprised look and grins. "More important than me? You don't have time for my game? My, my Sherlock what…or should I say who is more important than me? Perhaps it's your dear John Watson."

Sherlock closes his eyes again to control all the feelings that are flooding through his mind palace.

"It seems that you're very distracted. Your dear blogger shouldn't have sent you to me distracted. No he shouldn't have."

"I'm not distracted."

"Prove it." Moriarty smirks. "What do I want from you?"

Sherlock scans him, deducing. "You want Mycroft's all access security code."

"Good and why did I choose to meet here instead of London?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "You apparently have something planned that would be easily stopped in London."

"Correct. Now you're going to give me the code."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I'll do this." Moriarty smiles.

A house nearby explodes into a fiery inferno. Sherlock doesn't react.

"My answer is no."

Moriarty frowns. "I am quite disappointed. Sherlock you are getting boring. Well, if your answer is no…"

Another house explodes and yet again Sherlock doesn't react. Though he's thinking of ways out of this. Moriarty is not the one detonating the bombs on the houses. So he must have at least one accomplice. So if Sherlock kills him it wouldn't necessarily help.

"You don't react to strangers dying, but you remember when I told you I would burn the heart out of you Sherlock?!" Moriarty screams in his face. "Well now I can!"

Sherlock immediately knows what's going to happen. He's had his phone ready behind his back ever since the first house exploded. He sent a text just after the second house exploded.

* * *

"Lestrade we need to get out of here now!" John grabs his coat and slips his phone inside.

"What's going on?!" Lestrade asks as he runs after John.

"I got a text from Sherlock. It said get out now."

They reach the lobby.

"Everyone needs to get out now!" John tells everyone in the lobby. They all look at him like he's crazy.

Lestrade pulls out his badge. "Scotland Yard. Listen to him!"

All the people in the lobby promptly start running out of the hotel, followed by John and Lestrade. As soon as they're all outside the hotel explodes and bursts into flames. The crowd screams in surprise. John's phone goes off.

"I got another text from Sherlock. It says: John are you ok? Don't come and find me right now. And don't reply to this message. Moriarty must think you're dead. In 10 minutes meet me at the corner of Moor St. Be careful, I love you." He blushes as he finishes reading the text out loud.


	6. Moriarty

Sherlock's mind races. I need to pretend that John didn't get out of the hotel. I must pretend he's dead and do it well. He hangs his head down and acts like he's defeated.

"I always told you Sherlock, sentiment is not an advantage. It's a weakness." Moriarty places his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Sherlock stands up and a tear is on his cheek.

"Oh get over it Sherlock, give me the code and I'll leave you to mourn!"

Sherlock pulls out John's gun.

"Shooting me! That's boring Sherlock, so very boring!"

"Well, I won't be boring." Sherlock whispers as he moves the gun to point at himself.

"No! What are you doing!?" Moriarty quickly signals in his four accomplices, they immediately appear and run over to Sherlock.

Sherlock's finger is on the trigger. "Finding John." He whispers.

Moriarty motions to his accomplices to stay back, but close enough to step in. He slowly walks closer to Sherlock. "Just put the gun down Sherlock. You wouldn't really do it anyway."

Sherlock slowly moves the gun away from his head.

"That's it, now give me the gun."

"Oh I will." Sherlock says quietly.

Moriarty has a puzzled look on his face, but soon that changes to one of pain as Sherlock pulls the trigger. A bullet flies into Moriarty's stomach. He aimed to wound not to kill. The accomplices immediately start firing shots at Sherlock. One of them tends to Moriarty. Sherlock fires back. A bullet grazes his arm leaving a deep gash. He winces, but continues to fight. One of the men is hit in their leg and they fall to the ground. Another is hit on their side. That leaves two left that are still fighting.

I have to stay alive and get to Moor Street. I need to be there in four minutes. Sherlock dodges another bullet. It's starting to become too much for him, fighting two men with guns who keep getting closer.

Soon the three of them stop shooting. Sherlock's breathing heavily. The two men circle in on him. Before he can dodge him, one of the men takes a cheap shot and punches Sherlock's injured arm. He suppresses a groan of pain. The other man bangs the back of his head with the butt of his gun. Sherlock crumples to the ground, fighting the urge to go unconscious.

Think of John, think of John. Stay awake for him. Sherlock tells himself.

Sherlock receives a kick to his side. The men get ready to beat him up more, but Moriarty finally speaks.

"We need him alive." Moriarty orders quietly.

The two accomplices are distracted for a split second, but that's all Sherlock needs. He uses his last ounce of energy to kick one and punch the other. They're stunned as he runs away towards Moor Street.


	7. Reunited

John and Lestrade stand at the corner of Moor Street. John's pacing worriedly for it's two minutes past when they were suppose to meet Sherlock. Soon though they see a figure walking slowly toward them. The figure is revealed to be Sherlock. John runs to meet him and Lestrade follows, a little back.

"Sorry. I got held up." Sherlock says as he sways unsteadily on his feet.

John hugs him. "That's ok, but Sherlock you're hurt. What happened?"

"It's just a small bullet wound, and a few bruises." Sherlock sways drastically and John catches him.

"You're not ok and that's not just a small bullet wound. We need to get to someplace where I can examine you properly." John's clearly concerned as he steadies Sherlock, keeping one arm gently around him.

"Lestrade, hurry over to York Street. You'll find an injured Moriarty and his four accomplices"

Lestrade nods. "Right away Sherlock and get some rest." He starts running to York Street.

"Can you make it to the car?" John asks.

"Yes." Sherlock says as his vision swims.

So they slowly walk back to the Volkswagen, Sherlock leaning heavily on John. When they reach the car, Sherlock sits down in the back seat as John gets out the first aid kit from the trunk. Then he turns on all the lights in the car and sits down next to Sherlock.

"So what happened?" John asks as he starts removing Sherlock's coat so he can see how bad his bullet wound is.

Sherlock winces a little as his coat is removed. "Moriarty wanted Mycroft's all access security code and I refused to give it to him. If he has that code then London and the country will be destroyed. Since I refused, he started blowing up buildings. Then I kind of shot him and his four accomplices shot at me."

John opens his mouth to inquire about the full extent of Sherlock's injuries, but he is interrupted.

"I was shot, punched, hit in the head, and kicked in the side."

"God Sherlock. I'm going to kill them." John removes Sherlock's shirt and examines his gash. "You're going to need stitches…but I don't have any anesthetic. I don't want to hurt you more."

"John I'll be fine. Just do what needs to be done."

Their eyes meet and John nods. Then he begins cleaning Sherlock's wound. Next, he prepares the needle and thread.

"Are you ready?"

Sherlock nods and John kisses his forehead. Then he begins stitching up the gash. Sherlock grimaces, but doesn't complain. Soon, he's all stitched up. Then John goes on to examine where Sherlock was kicked and his head.

John lets out a breath of relief. "You don't have any life threatening injuries, but you do have a bruised rib. So don't do anything crazy for a few days."

Sherlock manages a half smile. "No promises."

"Something's bothering you isn't it? You're usually all excited once you've solved a case."

"That's the problem. It's not over yet. I have a feeling that Moriarty has something more complex planned. That was too simple. I need to figure it out, but this stupid headache won't go away."

"What you need to do is rest. You're only going to make your headache worse by trying to figure that out.

"Fine, but only for you John."

So once Sherlock gets his shirt back on he lays against John, letting his touch engulf him. Sherlock focuses on everything that is John for it distracts him from his pain and headache. Sooner than he thinks, he's in a deep sleep. John smiles wearily as he stays awake to keep vigil.


	8. Bad News

**Author's note: I'm back! Sorry I haven't updated in a few days and I apologize that this chapter is short, but there's more to come soon.**

* * *

Meanwhile, a very displeased and agitated Lestrade finally escapes the townspeople and returns to his car. John spots him and puts a finger to his lips and points at a sleeping Sherlock.

"John I have bad news." Lestrade whispers.

"What is it?"

"Moriarty got away, but I did arrest his four accomplices."

"How!?" John angrily whispers.

"I got there as quick as I could, but he was already gone."

"Sherlock was right. It was too easy. He's got something bigger planned." John sighs.

Sherlock's eyes open. "I was right about what?"

"Moriarty got away. I'm sorry; by the time I got there he was gone. But his accomplices weren't." Lestrade informs him.

"I should have known." Sherlock places his hands under his chin. "I miscalculated, I made a mistake." He murmurs quietly, so quiet that no one hears.

"We all know how hard it is to find Moriarty. It's impossible unless he wants to be found. We might as well return to London unless you want to question the accomplices?" Lestrade asks.

"No. There's nothing more I can gain from them. Besides, Moriarty didn't tell them his full plan."

Lestrade gets into the car. "So should we try to drive straight home or stop somewhere?"

John checks his watch. "Well, it's a little after midnight and we're all tired. I could switch you for driving half way if you want? Or we could find a motel on the way?"

"Drive straight back to London." Sherlock intervenes.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one driving." Lestrade grumbles under his breath as he starts the car.

John yawns.

"You should get some sleep." Sherlock whispers as he tentatively strokes John's cheek, but soon pulls his hand back, unsure of John's reaction.

John however didn't mind at all. He enjoyed the feeling of Sherlock's violinist fingers on his cheek. Sherlock realizes this and reaches out again to touch John's cheek. He leans into Sherlock's touch until his head is resting on Sherlock's shoulder. John closes his eyes and Sherlock kisses him on the cheek.

"Goodnight John." He whispers ever so softly.

Soon John is fast asleep and Sherlock protectively wraps his arm around him.


	9. Back Home

About two and a half hours later Lestrade stops the car on the side of the road.

Sherlock gently wakes John up.

"What is it Sherlock?"

"It's time for you to switch with Lestrade."

So John and Lestrade switch places and they're back on the road to London. They reach London at close to six a.m. Sherlock and John say goodbye to Greg as they reach 221B Baker Street. They walk hand in hand to their door and are greeted by Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh my boys are back! You two have been gone for a while, I was getting worried." Mrs. Hudson smiles as she ushers them inside. Then she notices that they're holding hands and nearly screams in excitement, but contains herself to a quiet "yes I knew it!"

"What was that Mrs. Hudson?" John asks.

"Nothing dearie. Would either of you like a cuppa?"

Sherlock and John both decline her offer.

"Maybe later. I'm exhausted and Sherlock should rest too."

"Ok, well, get some rest." Mrs. Hudson beams at them.

John nods and he and Sherlock go up to their flat.

_When I left this flat yesterday, Sherlock and I were just friends, but now we're definitely something more. What are we exactly? I'll have to talk to him, but right now I need sleep. _John goes upstairs to his room.

Sherlock lies down on the couch, thinking. He tries to think about all the possible places Moriarty could be and what his overall plan could be, but soon his thoughts turn to his dear blogger. _John…the man that I love. I never thought that I had the capability to love anyone until recently. Strong feelings are completely new to me though. It's slightly overwhelming that John and I are together now. But I realize that there is no going back and nor would I want to. I love my dear blogger and those moments we've already shared, they made my mind go blank save for one thought…_

* * *

At around noon John wakes up and heads downstairs to find Sherlock, who is still on the couch.

"You're finally up. I was beginning to get bored." Sherlock says as he sits up.

John rolls his eyes. "Moriarty's on the loose and you're bored… Did you get any rest?"

"No, I was too busy thinking."

"About?"

Sherlock stands up to pace around the room. "About Moriarty's plans and his whereabouts, but also…you." He stops right in front of John.

Their lips meet, their kiss soft and gentle at first, but soon becomes heated as Sherlock takes the lead, surprising John. His surprise quickly disappears though as he regains control and pushes Sherlock against the nearest wall. Their lips never breaking apart until the need for oxygen arises. They finally break apart gasping for air.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"You do know that I can't always be…like this?" Sherlock's eyes scan John for an answer, but only see confusion.

"Like what Sherlock?" John replies, not understanding.

"Loving, caring, nice. At time, I'm still going to be rude and cold and I might even have to lock away my feelings to have absolute focus. But I will always love you…" Sherlock looks scared. "You won't leave me knowing that I won't always be this caring, will you?"

"Why would I ever leave you? Besides all your traits and personality make you, you. You wouldn't be Sherlock if you were always nice and caring." John wraps Sherlock into a warm embrace. "You're my consulting detective and I love you too."


	10. Scotland Yard Murder

**Author's Note: I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. Marching band practice has momentarily taken over my life! **

****Warning this chapter contains a slightly(just slightly) gory description.** I don't know how you react to that stuff so just a small warning.**

**Thanks for reading! Enjoy**

* * *

Sherlock and John are sitting on their couch casually drinking tea; it's around 2p.m., when Sherlock's phone goes off. He quickly reaches out and grabs it from the table.

"Who is it?" John asks him.

"Lestrade. No doubt news about something related to Moriarty." Sherlock taps the answer button and puts it on speaker so John can hear as well. "Hello Lestrade."

"Sherlock there's been a murder, but it's not just a murder. It's too hard to explain, you need to see it yourself. Come down to Scotland Yard immediately."

"We'll be right there.' Sherlock ends the call and jumps up all excited as he rushes to put on his coat and scarf. "This is when it gets fun John."

John smiles at the fact that right now Sherlock is acting like a child going to a toy store. "Fun for you maybe, but not fun for the person that died."

They go outside, hail a cab, and they're on their way to Scotland Yard. In the cab John presents an important question.

"Sherlock, should we tell the people at Scotland Yard about…us?"

"No need. I'm sure, whether we like it or not, Lestrade's told them already. Mycroft also knows as well."

"How does Mycroft know?"

"Lestrade told him." Sherlock rolls his eyes. "That made for a lovely text from him."

"Why would―never mind, I don't want to know."

Soon they arrive at Scotland Yard. Sherlock leads the way, striding excitedly into the building. John follows close behind. They're greeted by the scene of Scotland Yard in chaos. People are running back and forth. There's a light smell of smoke in the air as detectives, scientists, technicians, interns, and many others fly about.

"What the…" John trails off.

Lestrade hurries over to meet them. "First the murder then this!" He puts his head in his hands. "A fire started in the break room just after I called you. It quickly spread to the office that just so happened to contain important documents. It's a nightmare."

"Did you put the fire out?" John inquires.

"Yes, the fire department came. And now we've been running around trying to save papers and things. We haven't even done anything with poor Michael yet."

"Michael?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes he was an intern here. Found his body in the copy room at around 1 o'clock. It's a gruesome sight, someone…wrote a message on the walls with his blood, but we can't make any sense out of it or who killed him. That's why I called you."

Sherlock nods. "Who found the body?"

"Ellen, she's pretty shook up about it. Now if you don't mind, I'll show you to the copy room and then I need to attend to the aftermath of the fire situation." Lestrade finishes hurriedly as he glances around at the chaos still going on around them.

Sherlock and John follow Lestrade to the copy room. They pass by the break room where the fire started and the office where it spread, Sherlock quickly saves both rooms to his mind palace for further examination later. They enter the copy room to see a bloody mess. The body of Michael lies in the middle of the room. A message written in blood stains the walls. John's eyes widen, he's seen death many times before, but not like this. The body's chest is in shreds and covered in blood. It must have been a painful death. Sherlock seems unaffected and calmly walks over to the lifeless form of Michael to examine him.

"John, copy down the message from the wall exactly as you see it. I'll analyze it back at 221b." Sherlock orders as he pulls out his small magnifying glass.

John nods and whips out his notebook and pen. He carefully writes down the message that looks like gibberish to him. LB UFMHDBOBF MF EBHU PVD DNNLFMDDS. BF OFSJS BBDHEDOS O'DTS SHFM DNNOBQF Z DD RTF I'BH QQFUV OPTS UPTT. _Well if anyone can figure out this code, Sherlock can. To me it looks like nothing._

Sherlock finishes examining the body and moves on to the walls. He's done in a matter of minutes.

"What do you think?" Lestrade asks.

"I have it practically solved. It's quite simple actually. I just need a look at the break room."

Lestrade looks shocked for a moment. "Ok, go ahead."

So Sherlock and John walk down the hall, hand in hand, to the break room, not a care in the world about what other people think.


	11. Cracking the Code

**Author's Note: I sincerely apologize to everyone that I haven't updated this in an extremely long time. Here's a few reasons why: I'm in marching band and band camp was from the end of July through August. Then I started my freshman year at high school, which has been stressful. And I've had band practice twice a week, a football game on Fridays, and homework. But good news, the marching season is almost over so that gives me more time to write. I'll try to update more often now. Thanks.**

* * *

After Sherlock's quick look at the fire damaged break room they report back to Lestrade.

"Well?" He asks.

"It's quite simple actually, if you know what to look for. Michael's low paying intern job caused him to become desperate for money, and he wanted to be able to afford an wedding for he wanted to marry Ellen-"

Lestrade cuts him off. "He was going to marry Ellen?!"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Clearly yes. As I was saying, Michael was desperate for money, so Moriarty hired him to cause a little chaos at here. Michael was sent to set up a device that would ignite and leave no trace of it when activated. Moriarty's goal was to destroy all records of 4 of his criminal accomplices that recently got out of prison. In the end, once Michael had placed the device in the right spot, he got nervous and began to have doubts. Therefore, Moriarty sent out one of his professional assassins to artfully kill him and leave a message all without being discovered." Sherlock finishes and looks to John.

"You're bloody brilliant Sherlock." John smiles.

Lestrade though is speechless. "How did you figure that all out?" He finally manages to say.

"Well, Ellen was the one who found him meaning that she was looking for him and is extremely upset about his death. Michael had a picture of her and a receipt from a jewelry store in his pocket and he also had a business card for Moriarty which he gives to all his clients and associates. I knew about the fire device that supposedly leaves no trace, but if you examine the soot pattern you can see where it was. The fact that-"

"Ok Sherlock that's enough, you're making my head spin. Thank you for solving that for us and good luck on that message. Let me know when you've cracked it. Sorry to cut you short, but I've got a hundred other things to take care of." Lestrade says tiredly.

"We'll see you later then, Greg." John says as he pulls Sherlock along with him out the door.

"But I had more to say." Sherlock protests. "I was just beginning to explain the process of how I reached the conclusions I did."

"Lestrade's just busy, but you know that I'd be more than happy to listen to you." John offers.

Sherlock nods contently. They take a cab back to 221B and Sherlock continues explaining his methods to John. They reach their flat as Sherlock finishes his long explanation. Once they're inside, John prepares two cups of tea as Sherlock sits down in his chair. He has John's notebook and is examining the code. John sits down across from him.

"Clever, but hardly a challenge." Sherlock mutters. "Apparently Moriarty wants us to see the message."

"You've figured it out already?" John asks.

"Yes. The code was go forward two letters, then the next letter you go back two letters. Once you reverse that then the message is in French. It clearly says: Ma vengeance ne fait que commencer. Ce petit accident n'est rien compare à ce que j'ai prévu pour vous."

John tilts his head, confused. "In English? And since when can you speak French?"

"Since I was young, my parents thought that learning another language might occupy Mycroft and I, we learned it in less than a week." Sherlock sighs then repeats the message this time in English. "My revenge is just getting started. This little accident is nothing compared to what I have planned for you."

"God, Sherlock, this is getting too dangerous…"

* * *

**And another apology, this chapter may have been rubbish and I know its kinda short, but the next one will be better. **


	12. Missing

**Author's Note: This chapter is also short, but I have an extra long chapter that's almost finished and will be published soon. So be on the look out for that.**

_ "God, Sherlock, this is getting too dangerous…"_

Sherlock just nods and leans back in his chair trying to discern all the possible hidden meanings to the message.

Later that evening John decides he's going to go to bed, but he's concerned about Sherlock.

_Sherlock hasn't moved for five hours and it doesn't look like he plans on going to bed. When's the last time he got a full night's sleep?_ "Sherlock?"

John's voice drags Sherlock out of his mind palace.

"Yes John?" Sherlock's blue green eyes meet John's.

"You should get some sleep. You've been sitting here for five hours straight."

Sherlock doesn't look surprised that it's been five hours.

"I've almost figured out something important. I don't need sleep."

"Yes you do." John rolls his eyes, but then his gaze softens as he leans over to kiss Sherlock on the cheek. "Goodnight Sherlock," he whispers. Then he goes upstairs to bed.

All Sherlock's previous thoughts turn to ones about his dear blogger.

* * *

In the morning, Sherlock is looking for John because he just figured out something vital to Moriarty's plan and the meaning of the note.

_Where is John?_

Sherlock sees a note on the fireplace mantle. It reads:

Sherlock,

I had to go to the clinic. They had an emergency that needed attended to. I'll be back later.

Love, John

"No," Sherlock whispers. "It's started." He grabs his phone off the table and frantically dials John's number. "Pick up, pick up…"

"Sorry the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected, an error has occurred." An automated voice says on the phone.

Sherlock manages to stay calm, but has a deadly glint in his eyes as he dials the clinic that John works at.

"Hello, this is The London Clinic. How may I help you?" The receptionist says.

"Have you seen John Watson today?

"No, I can't say tha-"

Sherlock ends the call and begins pacing around the room. He grabs his coat and scarf, and storms out of the flat, down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson comes out to see what all the stomping is about.

"Sherlock dear, what's going on?" She worriedly asks him.

"Moriarty has taken John." He replies, the anger seeping into his words.

And with that he door slams shut behind him.

"Oh my…" A frightened Mrs. Hudson says. Sherlock didn't usually scare her, but the anger he just displayed was a terrifying sight. "I hope he finds John… I wonder if he needs any help."


	13. Rescue?

**Author's Note: Extra long chapter yay! Warning: This chapter contains slightly gory descriptions. It's not too bad though, I just don't want anyone freaking out. Thanks. **

* * *

A cab pulls up to another warehouse, the fifth one in a row actually. Sherlock has his homeless network scouring the city for places that Moriarty could be keeping John. John's been missing for four hours; in that time Sherlock has been searching relentlessly. He's ruled out underground subway tunnels and discreet public places. So now he's searching warehouses. This one seems different than the others. It's darker and somewhat more recluse than the others. Kylie of the homeless network was sure it was this one when she told him. Sherlock gets out of the cab and cautiously looks around. John's shotgun weighs in his pocket.

The warehouse from the outside looks completely deserted. Sherlock slowly pushes open the door. The inside of the warehouse is pitch black save for a single light illuminating a chair containing a disheveled man. John Watson. Sherlock's eyes shine with relief, but then blaze with fury as he sees how beat up John is. His shirt is shredded and blood stained in multiple places. One eye is swollen shut and there's a cut on his bottom lip.

_Moriarty will not get away with this! No one can take and torture John! _

Sherlock steps forward slowly for he knows it's probably a trap, but he's got to rescue John. As soon as he's within six feet of him, 25 red dots of light lock onto to him. Sherlock stops and swears under his breath. From the shadows Moriarty emerges.

"Hi Sherlock, knew you'd come for your little pet here." Moriarty grins maliciously and motions toward a barely conscious John. "Never knew he was so fun to torture though."

Sherlock nearly leaps at him, but keeps his anger in check, though the look Moriarty receives is absolutely murderous.

"Oh! You want to kill me I know, but honestly Sherlock I don't think you can. You had your chance and didn't take it. Admit it; you enjoy the little games we play. You even like this one." Moriarty nonchalantly slits another cut onto John's right arm.

John's eyes squeeze shut against the fresh pain. Sherlock almost growls as he lunges at Moriarty, but the clicks of 25 guns being loaded stop him a few feet short.

_I'll be no help to John if I'm dead._

"Wow, you've really revealed your pressure point Sherlock. And know that if you take another step, I will have my men shoot you and you wouldn't want to leave poor John Watson alone now would you?"

Sherlock just glares at him; his mind is racing, coming up with possible plans and then rejecting them. He's within two feet of John. He has a shotgun in his pocket, but that won't do much good. If he moves then death is sure to follow.

"I like the silent treatment, but it's no fun if you don't react. Maybe you need some encouragement." Moriarty's teeth flash in a wolfish smile as he draws his knife again.

_Think, think, think! Why can't I figure out a way to end this? I don't think John can take much more, he's barely conscious. If he doesn't make it then I'll never forgive myself, no if he doesn't make it then I'll have nothing to live for._

Moriarty presses his knife lightly into the middle of John's chest. Blood trickles from the newly make thin slice.

Sherlock doesn't react.

Moriarty shrugs and plunges the knife deeper. John's body convulses in pain. The thin slice quickly turns into a blood gushing gash. John slips into unconsciousness. Sherlock can't stand watching, so instead he glares into the heartless eyes of Moriarty. The blade is sickeningly twisted deeper. Sherlock finally snaps.

"Stop!" He exclaims with such force and anger that Moriarty does just that, he stops. "You're killing him!"

Moriarty rolls his eyes. "Oh please. You're the one killing him Sherlock. It's because of you that he's in this situation. You're dangerous and John Watson of all people should know that. As long as I'm around, I'll continue to destroy your life." Moriarty casually flips his knife into the air and catches it. "And I'll start by extinguishing the only bright thing you have." Moriarty contemplates his next move, but the look of pure despair, which was so closely guarded, and is now revealed on Sherlock's face makes up his mind. He grins and lifts his arm to give the fatal blow.

Sherlock closes his eyes and when he opens them they burn with hatred and determination. He reaches out and grabs Moriarty's wrist. Time seems to freeze. Sherlock and Moriarty both wait for the expected gun shots, but all is silent. The red target lights move from Sherlock and lock onto Moriarty.

"How?!" Moriarty shouts in disbelief.

Sherlock restrains him and wrests the knife from his grip.

"Reveal yourselves, you bastards!" Moriarty screams angrily and then attempts to break free from Sherlock's steel like grip.

"You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you." Sherlock says with absolute seriousness.

"Oh I'm so scared Sherlock. What are you going do? Just let me go and we'll have a nice chat." Moriarty struggles to break free again.

Sherlock releases him.

"There we go," Moriarty brushes off his suit." Now we ca-"

He's cut off by a punch in the jaw followed by another. Soon Moriarty is battered, bleeding, and stumbling unsteadily. Sherlock grabs his arm and painfully twists it behind his back.

"No one hurts John and gets away with it." Sherlock whispers into his ear. "You will pay for this. You will wish that I had killed you when I had the chance."

Sherlock lets him drop to the ground. Two men come out of the shadows. Sherlock recognizes them as Mycroft's men. They nod to Sherlock and grab hold of Moriarty. Seeing that that situation is taken care of, Sherlock immediately rushes to John's side. He quickly unties the rope that's binding John to the chair and slowly lays him on the ground.

"John?" Sherlock gently shakes him.

John's eyes flutter, but stay closed and his breathing is shallow. Sherlock attempts to stop the bleeding on John's chest with his scarf. A single tear slides down his cheek.

"It's all my fault," he whispers.

"The ambulance is on its way."

Sherlock turns around to see Mycroft.

"I think you owe me a thank you." Mycroft says.

Sherlock turns back to attending to John. "How did you know where I was?"

"It seems that your land lady was so concerned that she called Gregory and he contacted me."

"Gregory?" Sherlock asks, confused.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. "Gregory Lestrade."

Sherlock just nods and continues to focus on John.

Lestrade comes and tells them that the ambulance has arrived. It's all a blur as the medics arrive to take John to the hospital. Sherlock insists that he ride with John to the hospital. The medics allow him. Mycroft gathers his men and Moriarty as they all leave in high class cars. Moriarty is to be placed in some secret high security chamber under Mycroft's supervision. Lestrade also leaves the scene with the police force he brought.


	14. Safe

**Author's Note: Well I'm sorry to say that this is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The ride to the hospital is a depressing one. Sherlock grips John's hand the whole time. The medics say his vitals look good, but Sherlock still fears the worst.

_My dear John, you have to live. There's no other option. I never want this to happen to you again. I don't want to leave your side until you're safe. It's my fault, I should have protected you._

"Sir?" A medic gently says.

Sherlock glances at them.

"We've arrived at the hospital."

The medics move John into the hospital emergency room and Sherlock goes to follow, but is refused entrance.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't allow you into the E.R. while we're working. You can see him when we're done." A medic lady says. Then seeing Sherlock's concerned expression she adds, "I'm sorry, but it's protocol. I'll let you in the minute we're done." She hurries into the room and shuts the door.

Sherlock is left pacing in the waiting room. He slips into a remorseful mood. The minutes tick by and it feels like it's been hours since he's seen John. Finally, the same medic lady from before comes out of the room. She smiles kindly at Sherlock.

"You can see him now. He should be waking up shortly and everything went well. As long as nothing gets infected he should heal up quickly."

Sherlock perks up when he hears that and follows the lady into the E.R. room. John is just waking up when he enters the room.

"Sherlock," John says, smiling.

"John." Sherlock rushes over and hugs him, nearly crushing him on the bed.

John winces and Sherlock starts to pull away, but John doesn't let him. He feels tears soaking into his hospital gown.

"It's ok. Everything is alright now. I'm safe." John embraces Sherlock tighter. "We're safe."

When they end their hug, Sherlock stays seated next to John, not wanting to leave him. The medics address them both about the fact that John should probably stay the night at the hospital. But, with much reassuring, Sherlock and John manage to convince them to let him go home under Sherlock's care.

John hides the lingering pain well as he and Sherlock get into the cab called in by the hospital. He lays against Sherlock the whole cab ride to 221B. Sherlock carefully wraps his arm around him, knowing that he's still in pain.

They get back to 221B and are greeted by a very frantic and worried Mrs. Hudson.

"John dear, thank goodness you're ok! How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok Mrs. Hudson." But he winces as Sherlock helps him into the doorway.

Mrs. Hudson shakes her head. "Sherlock you better take good care of him and if you boys need anything please let me know."

They both just nod in agreement and start the hard task of getting up the stairs. When they reach their flat, John sinks down into his chair. Sherlock sits across from him.

"Sherlock… thank you." John says.

"Don't thank me; it's my fault that all this happened to you. If I had paid more attention, I could have protected you." Sherlock glances at John sorrowfully.

"Don't you dare say that, don't blame yourself. Besides, it's over now and Moriarty is safely locked away."

"But you're injured… because of me. Maybe you would be safer-"

John leans forward and places his hand on Sherlock's knee. "No, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here right now. Stop blaming yourself for things out of your control." John says softly as he stares into Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock finally agrees and feels more relaxed now. John is safe and doesn't blame him, and the Moriarty situation is taken care of for the moment. A tentative smile starts to appear on his face as John places a light kiss on his lips.

Realizing how late it is and the fact that they're both exhausted, they decide to get some rest.

"I guess I'll go up to my room, the stairs aren't so bad."

"Or you could… sleep in my room," Sherlock says quietly as he starts to blush, "with me?"

John grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

So John follows a very flustered Sherlock into his room. It doesn't look how John thought it would, but it seems to suit Sherlock. The room is neat, orderly, and actually quite plain compared to the rest of their flat. A queen sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand are the only pieces of furniture. Sherlock notices John looking intently at his room.

"Do you not like it?"

"No, the complete opposite, I like it, it's way more organized than the rest of our flat and it's very you in a way."

Sherlock pulls back the covers on the bed. John carefully lays down, grimacing as he feels the small jolts of pain when he stretches his stitches. Sherlock uncertainly slides into bed next to him. John can tell that Sherlock's not sure of what to do, so he wraps his better arm around him, drawing them closer. Sherlock's nerves dissipate as he moves closer to John and delicately kisses him above his eye. John's eyes close and Sherlock shifts closer until their bodies are pressed together.

"I love you." Sherlock whispers as he places a last kiss on John's forehead, and then he too closes his eyes.

"Love you too," is John's murmured reply.

Soon they fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
